


Anything, Everything

by Millennial_Medusa



Series: PJO/HOO Baseball AU [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, It's tooth rottingly sweet, baseball AU, nothing but fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 18:08:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15690633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Millennial_Medusa/pseuds/Millennial_Medusa
Summary: Annabeth’s favorite time to go to the library was right at the beginning of the semester. Midterms and finals were months away, it was too early for any tests or papers to be looming on the horizon, and the library was always practically empty. When it got busier, she usually preferred other various study locations—anything to escape the throngs of caffeine-high college kids—but now, on the second day of classes? She was the only one on the whole floor. She could browse the stacks, leaving her stuff at her table without fear of it being stolen, even read out loud if she needed to. There was no one to bother.That is, until he showed up.





	Anything, Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Will I ever write a fic that isn't ridiculously cheesy? Maybe, but today is not that day
> 
> If it's not obvious, this is set during Percy and Annabeth's first year of college. Enjoy!

_February 16_

Annabeth pulls her coat tighter around herself and pushes forward, stepping over and across the orange-and-black-clad fans with as much grace as she can muster. She successfully avoids stepping on any feet—though she nearly loses her balance several times—and makes it, finally, to Grover’s and her seats in the student section.

“There are too many people on this planet,” Grover grumbles, plopping onto the bleachers and immediately wincing at the bite of cold metal.

Annabeth laughs and huddles closer to him. “You’re not wrong, but at least the crowd is generating some kind of heat. I’m freezing. Whose idea was it to start baseball season in February?”

Grover shrugs and digs into his nachos. “Want any?” he asks, his voice muffled by the mouthful he’s working on. 

Annabeth shakes her head absently and studies the field. She hasn’t been to a baseball game since her dad took her to see the Yankees in sixth grade, but she spent the last week researching the rules and history of the game. She’s determined to be the best, most supportive girlfriend ever, so knowing the basics of the sport isn’t enough. She wants to really understand it, especially since she’s planning on being at all of his home games.

“It’s not a big deal,” he’d told her when he saw her stack of books. He’d brought her coffee for their Thursday night library study date, with just the right amount of cream, and the gesture had made her even more determined to learn everything there is to know about baseball.

“It _is_ a big deal, Seaweed Brain,” she’d answered stubbornly. “You want to do this professionally, and you love it, and I want to love it too. So I should figure out how it works.”

He’d blushed a little, clearly pleased at her enthusiasm, but he had laughed all the same. “It’s really easy to pick up on, I swear. You just have to pay attention to the game on Friday and you’ll have it figured out in no time.”

“Yeah, but I want to really get it. And I like research.”

With a grin, he’d leaned over and kissed her temple. “I know, Wise Girl.”

Thinking back on it makes Annabeth smile, and she has to shake herself out of the memory to refocus on the field. The teams are in the dugout, so she can’t see him yet, but she’s straining to get a glimpse. He’s the starter, she remembers, and it’s a home game, so he’ll pitch at the top of the innings. 

Actually, she thinks, with the amount of research she did this past week, she should know who decided to start the season in February.

She taps her heel against the metal bleachers, the cold and her nerves making her jittery. Grover must notice, because he wraps his arm through hers and squeezes lightly.

“It’s gonna be a good game,” he tells her. “He’s a fantastic pitcher—you should’ve seen him in high school, everyone on the other teams was terrified to bat against him.”

She smiles back at him. “Yeah, but the Giants were top of the college league last year.”

Grover blinks at her. “I thought you didn’t follow baseball,” he says, and Annabeth grins.

“I didn’t until about four months ago.” 

He rolls his eyes at her. “All those years I tried to get you to watch baseball so we could talk about it together, and you kept saying you had 'more important and intellectually stimulating' interests to pursue,” he mimics her in a high pitched, snooty voice, and she snorts. “But now that you’ve got a boyfriend…”

“First of all, I didn’t sound like that,” she scoffs, ignoring his grunt of disagreement. “And second, it’s a little different now that I have to go to all these games to be a supportive girlfriend. Just be happy you can talk baseball with me now.”

“I wouldn’t want it to get in the way of your superior intellectual endeavors,” Grover shoots back, but there’s no malice behind it.

“I’m sure those can wait. Besides, I’m pretty sure I actually know more than you do now,” she teases.

Grover gives her an affronted look. “In your dreams, Annabeth.”

“I guess we’ll just have to find out.”

 

_August 24_

Annabeth’s favorite time to go to the library was right at the beginning of the semester. Midterms and finals were months away, it was too early for any tests or papers to be looming on the horizon, and the library was always practically empty. When it got busier, she usually preferred other various study locations—anything to escape the throngs of caffeine-high college kids—but now, on the second day of classes? She was the only one on the whole floor. She could browse the stacks, leaving her stuff at her table without fear of it being stolen, even read out loud if she needed to. There was no one to bother.

That is, until he showed up.

He was tall and lean, with a shock of unruly black hair, and maybe under different circumstances she’d be impressed, but as it was he had stumbled onto her while she was laying in one of the aisles reading Fitzgerald’s _This Side of Paradise_ out loud to herself, and she was not pleased at the interruption. 

A few feet away, he faltered under her gaze. She wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing there, but he seemed frozen in place, watching her. She felt a blush start to creep into her cheeks, but forced herself to stay cool. Their eyes locked; she expected him to leave now that she was glaring at him. He didn’t.

Finally, she cleared her throat. “Can I help you?”

He shook his head slightly and ran his hand through his hair. Annabeth tracked the movement with her eyes.

“Sorry,” he coughed out, “I just…um, I’m looking for a book, and I’m not—I mean, it might be here. Somewhere.”

She studied him as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyes darting about nervously and settling back on her.

“Somewhere?” she echoed.

He nodded.

“As in ‘somewhere’ in this aisle, or ‘somewhere’ on this floor, or—?”

“Somewhere in this library,” he squeaked, his voice pitching up at the end as though it were a question. Annabeth only blinked back at him, noting the flush spreading across his cheeks. It was a lovely shade of pink. “I, uh, well I don’t really know how to find it, so I figured if I just sort of walked through the aisles eventually I’d have to stumble across it, you know?”

At that, Annabeth sat all the way up and frowned. “You’re walking all over the library looking for one book?”

His blush deepened, and some of Annabeth’s irritation melted away at his obvious discomfort.

He stared down at his shoelaces. “I’ve never really…”

“Been in a library?” she snorted, but immediately regretted it at his cringe. “Sorry, that’s not what I—”

“No, it’s okay.” He shook his head. “I haven’t, actually.”

She gawked at him. Annabeth had been spending her free time in the library since…well, since she was old enough to walk to the public library. That anyone could get to college— _college!_ —without having set foot in one? It was unfathomable.

“How?” she asked, not bothering to hide her incredulity.

The boy shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny and played with the strap of his backpack. “It’s sort of a long story.”

“I’ve got time,” she answered, settling her back against the shelves and patting the floor next to her. “Not that you have to tell me, of course. But you’ve piqued my interest.”

He watched her a moment, as if sizing her up, before making his decision and dropping down next to her. “It’s sort of embarrassing, and not very entertaining.”

He was about a foot away from her, and Annabeth took the opportunity to study him more closely. He wore old, black converse, jeans, and a dark blue tee shirt. The color looked good on him, she noted, suddenly realizing how incredibly attractive this guy was. She wasn’t sure how it could have slipped her notice before, even amid her annoyance and confusion, but he had the bone structure of a marble statue and the lean but muscular build to match. 

Frankly, he was…well, he was gorgeous. And sitting next to her. In the middle of an empty library. As her heart rate picked up, she began to wonder if maybe she’d made a mistake in inviting this impossibly handsome stranger to continue their conversation. She didn’t need to get her heart broken again after the last year and the whole Luke debacle, and she was afraid that the longer she talked to this boy, the greater the risk of being let down.

But, Annabeth, decided, that was ridiculous. It was just one conversation, and then campus was so big she’d probably never see him again.

“I’m in the library on a Thursday night. It’s not like I’ve got anything more interesting going on.”

He turned to meet her gaze, and his eyes were so green it knocked the wind out of her. 

“What’s your name?” he asked, his eyes tracing the lines of her face. She forced herself not to blush.

“Annabeth Chase.”

And then he was smiling, smiling so widely and brightly that Annabeth couldn’t help but smile back, and maybe this was a bad idea after all, maybe there really was something different about him, but she was already too far gone to back out now.

“What’s yours?”

 

_February 16_

“Percy Jackson with another strike out!” 

Percy grins, watching the K flash across the scoreboards. It’s the top of the third, and he’s only let five batters get past him. Only one scored a run, Beckendorf’s already hit a homer for the Demigods, and Chiron is almost smiling in the dugout. 

As he and Jason jog back to the dugout with the rest of the guys, they high five and wave to the crowd.

“I love home games,” Jason shouts over the cheers, and Percy nods in agreement.

He turns to search the student section for where he saw her earlier, and quickly spots her blonde hair. He waves once, and she’s in the stands on the other side of the field but he’s confident she knows it’s for her.

Suddenly Charles Beckendorf, a sophomore that Percy took to as soon as he made the team, slaps him on the back. “Nice inning, Jackson,” he says as they shuffle into the dugout.

“You too. That was a wicked double play.”

“Gotta show the Giants we mean business.” Beckendorf winks and takes the seat on the bench next to him. “So the girlfriend you talk about nonstop is here?”

Percy blushes a little—okay, so he talked about her a lot, especially to Beckendorf since he’d given him the advice on asking her out and everything, but it wasn’t _that_ much—but he can’t help the wide grin that stretches across his face at the mention of her. “Yeah, she’s in the student section with our friend, Grover.”

“With the way you get all mushy just talking about her I figured you’d get distracted when she finally saw you play,” Beckendorf says, and Percy frowns at him.

“Why would you think…?”

He snorts. “Because the first time Silena came to one of my games, I was so nervous I struck out every single time I was at bat.”

Percy gawks at him. Beckendorf is one of the best batters on the team, has drawn the attention of several big league teams, and Percy would never have believed that if he hadn’t just heard it from Beckendorf himself.

“You struck out… _every time?_ ”

Beckendorf nodded. “Silena still teases me for it.” Chiron calls him over, and he stands to grab his bat. “But if you keep playing the way you have been, Jackson, you won’t have that problem.”

Percy shoots him a thumbs up before he turns to confer with Chiron, and he heads into the bullpen to keep himself warm. He’s determined not to embarrass himself in his first college game, even if his stunningly beautiful and dangerously smart girlfriend is in the stands. He’s been dreaming about this game since he was a little kid batting off a tee in the public rec center, and it’s even better than he’d imagined. Annabeth is an added bonus he hadn’t dreamed up before.

So Beckendorf is right; he won’t have that problem. Besides, even if he does majorly screw up somehow, he knows Annabeth wouldn’t tease him about something so important to him.

 

_August 24_

“So after I was diagnosed it made a little more sense that reading was so hard, but I still hated it, and it was embarrassing to sit there and struggle, so I just sort of…avoided it,” Percy said with a sigh. “My mom sat with me every night for an hour just to get through a few pages, and I know I probably sound stupid but—”

“You don’t,” Annabeth interrupted. 

Percy glanced over at her and searched her eyes for the wariness or judgement he was used to seeing, but instead found them open and understanding and a beautiful gray flecked with blue, so subtle you’d miss it if you weren’t staring into them, and was she closer than before? He wanted to answer, but he suddenly found his mouth incredibly dry.

“You don’t sound stupid. I’m dyslexic, too,” she said softly. “And I’m not ADHD but reading is already really hard for me, so I can’t even imagine having to deal with that on top of it.”

He felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he could breathe more easily, and he wasn’t sure how five minutes after meeting this girl she could make him feel like that, but if listening to her talk and staring into the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen was what it took, he was happy to do it as often as possible.

“Um, yeah,” he said dumbly, slightly distracted by the blonde wisp that had slipped from her ponytail and curled along her jaw.

They sat in silence for what felt like hours, each taking in the other, and yeah, they were definitely closer together than they were before but Percy didn’t mind at all, and he had to remind himself that he’d only just met this girl, that they hadn’t known each other for years and didn’t really know anything about each other, because he was dangerously close to kissing her right then and he didn’t know what her policy on kissing strangers was but he figured it wouldn’t be in his favor, and—

“So,” she coughed, “What book were you looking for?”

He blinked a few times. “Oh, um. It’s called Red Harvest? It’s a detective novel.”

“Yeah, I read it a long time ago. It’s really good! It’s like an action novel, but with a good plot and compelling writing and you get into the detective’s head. You’d probably actually like it even with the dyslexia and everything,” she said, getting to her feet and offering him a hand.

Percy couldn’t help but be a little disappointed; he’d been enjoying talking to her, and it hadn’t lasted very long. But she probably wanted to get back to her own book, so he nodded and explained, “My friend, Grover, recommended it to me, and that’s pretty much what he said.”

Annabeth stared at him slack-jawed, and his mind raced to figure out what he’d said to upset her.

“Grover?” she asked, and Percy nodded mutely. “Grover _Underwood?_ ”

“Yeah, how did you—?”

“You know Grover?” They spoke at the same time, both excited and intrigued.

“He’s my roommate, and we went to middle and high school together,” Percy said. 

Annabeth’s smile was the prettiest he’d ever seen, and he had to practically bite his tongue off to keep himself from telling her.

“Grover and I have been going to the same summer camp since like, eighth grade.” She laughed, and then a thought seemed to occur to her. “Do you play baseball?”

It took Percy’s brain a few seconds to process and catch up, but he stuttered out a confused, “Um, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” Annabeth laughed, “you’re him! You’re the best friend Grover always talked about, that plays baseball and gets himself landed in detention all the time!”

Percy scoffed. “I wasn’t in detention _all_ the time, and there was always a good reason.”

“Oh, I know, I’m a big admirer of some of your pranks.”

“I hope he only told you the really good ones, I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” Annabeth rolled her eyes, but the delighted smile hadn’t left her face and Percy was determined to keep it there. “So I take it that means you’re his genius architect friend that was a counselor with him?”

A pretty flush painted her cheeks, and she glanced down shyly. “I wouldn’t say I’m a genius.”

“Grover would, and I trust his judgement implicitly.”

She looked back up at him, a new light in her eyes that made Percy’s heart stutter. “I do, too.” Then, before he could think of anything even remotely clever to say: “Well, your crime fiction novel is not likely to be in the world languages section. Let’s look somewhere that actually makes sense, huh Seaweed Brain?”

 

_February 16_

“Come on, Seaweed Brain!” Annabeth shouts, clapping wildly. He can’t hear her over the din of the crowd—they’re all on their feet, yelling and waving, cheering their support as Percy prepares to strike out the third batter of the seventh inning—but she screams herself hoarse all the same. She’s wholeheartedly invested in the game now. Percy had been right; the sport was incredibly easy to follow, but she finds herself watching anxiously, not just for Percy or even their school’s team, but for herself as well.

Annabeth had never pegged herself for a baseball fan, despite her unwavering support of the Yankees. (This love was, of course, cultivated from a young age and in support of her favorite city, rather than being built on an informed opinion, but now that she knows how much she likes the game, she figures keeping up with the Yankees won’t be too much of a hassle.) And yet here she is, jumping up and down beside Grover, who is just as animated as she is. They clutch each other’s hands as Percy rears back and sends the ball flying.

A swing and a miss, and the stands roar around them. 

As he heads towards the dugout, he turns towards them and waves, just as he has at the end of the last six innings. He’s too far for her to really see his face, but she knows it’s for her and Grover every time. Annabeth’s cheeks are starting to hurt from all the smiling she’s been doing, but she can’t bring herself to care. Not even the cold can bother her now.

(Seeing Percy in his uniform for the first time helps with that too. The jersey? The cap? The knee high socks, weirdly enough? And sweet Lord, those pants…she’s heard girls talk about the pants football players wear, but they must not have been to a baseball game before. Even from a distance, she can tell how well Percy fills out those pants, and the thought is enough to keep her warm all over.)

“You know,” she says, turning to steal some of Grover’s sour patch kids, “it’s interesting that Percy likes to talk about Tom Seaver’s pitching style so much.”

Grover’s brow furrows, and he swallows the mouthful of candy he was working on. “Why? He was a great pitcher, and you know Percy loves the Mets.”

“Yeah, but with how much he likes him, you’d think he’d mimic his style more.”

“You think he doesn’t?”

Annabeth shakes her head. Chris Rodriguez is at bat now, and she watches him take a few warm up swings. “Seaver liked to pull his hands all the way up over his head and swing his leg out on the follow through. Actually, Roger Clemens’s style was similar, and he talks about him a lot, too, even though he played for the Red Sox. But Percy just pulls back, not up and over, and his leg doesn’t arc out like Seaver’s so much as it just sort of twists. And he’s more relaxed. He doesn’t even look like he’s trying very hard.”

Grover is staring at her now, wide-eyed.

Chris doesn't swing, but the pitch is outside. Ball one.

“He reminds me more of Mariano Rivera than Seaver, or Clemens,” she finishes.

It takes a moment for Grover to process what she said, apparently, because she has time to steal three more candies from him before he finally answers, “Who are you?” 

Annabeth laughs. 

Chris hits a pop up foul.

“No, seriously, who are you and what have you done with Annabeth Chase? Because the Annabeth Chase I know doesn’t care about baseball and can’t tell you the difference between a short stop and an outfielder.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she sniffs, “of course I knew the difference between a short stop and an outfielder. Just because I didn’t watch it doesn’t mean I was completely in the dark.” 

“I distinctly remember having to explain the difference to you the summer before our freshman year of high school,” he says, raising his eyebrows at her.

Chris swings and misses. Strike one.

“Whatever. I did some research, so now I _do_ know the difference, _and_ all the rules, _and_ the major milestones in the history, _and_ the most famous players, _and_ I spent a few hours on Percy’s favorite pitchers. So I’m fully prepared, and you can talk my ear off about baseball and I’ll actually understand what you’re saying.”

Grover smiles widely at her, and she assumes it’s because after years of pestering her, she finally appreciates the game. But his smile is too soft for that, too positively gleeful, so she frowns questioningly back at him.

“You like him,” he says.

Annabeth rolls her eyes, but she can’t help blushing a little. “Of course I like him, Grover, we’ve been dating for four months.”

“Yeah, but you really like him. Like, _spend hours doing research on a sport you don’t think you like,_ like him.”

Chris hits the ball way out to left field, and manages to make it to second base.

“I like my research,” she grumbles. And then, softer, “But yeah, things are going well and I really, really like him. I’ve got a good feeling about him.”

He nudges her shoulder with his own. “If it’s not super obvious already, he really, really likes you, too.”

“Well, I’m glad the last four months haven’t been a waste of both of our time.” Annabeth ignores the way her heart flutters and her stomach feels like mush. She knows how much he likes her. He’s not subtle, and frankly, neither is she.

“I think there will be plenty more not-wasted months ahead, then,” Grover says. “You know, as long as you don’t tell him you just compared his pitching style to Mariano Rivera.”

She blinks at him. “Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because Mariano Rivera played for the Yankees, Annabeth!”

“Yeah, so? So did Babe Ruth. They’re one of the best teams in history.”

“And you know how much Percy despises them.”

She rolls her eyes, both of them pausing to cheer as Jason’s line drive gets him to first and Chris to third. “The Mets are terrible, and I’ve got the stats to prove it.”

“What are you gonna do if they recruit him?” Grover asks, popping another handful of sour patch kids into his mouth.

She thinks it over, and then says, “I’ll have to go to his games, I guess. But I’ll wear my Yankees jersey to every single one.”

Grover snorts, and they both dissolve into giggles.

 

_October 5_

“If I have to read another word about liberal hegemony I’m going to scream,” Annabeth said as soon as he arrived, sliding deeper into her seat.

“Government that bad?” 

“You have no idea,” she groaned. “It’s so easy, but so incredibly boring.”

Percy frowned down at her. “If it’s so easy, why bother studying for it?”

She sent him a look he’d come to understand as “I’m going to assume you already know how ridiculous what you just said was”, and he conceded with a shrug.

“I’m almost done, thankfully, but I’ve read so much about _‘actors in the global system’_ I feel like a goddamn theatre major.”

Percy chuckled and slid into the chair across from her, the same seats they could be found in every Tuesday and Thursday night for the past six weeks. He’d chickened out of getting her number the night they met and spent the whole week regretting it, so the next Thursday he wandered the library again—searching for her, rather than a book. He thanked every deity he could think of when he found her, and the smile that lit up her face when she spotted him was so bright he decided he’d spend every day in the library just to see it.

From there it had become a sort of tradition to meet in the library on Tuesday and Thursday nights, sit at their table, and spend hours studying and doing homework and talking. Or, more accurately, Annabeth studied and read out loud—it helped with her dyslexia, and Percy loved the sound of her voice—while Percy listened and procrastinated on his own work by watching, entranced, as she did hers. 

Studying her came much more easily to Percy than any scholarly subject. He had picked up on her habits: how she’d chew her bottom lip and frown when she didn’t understand something, how she’d tap her heel on the floor when she’d been sitting for too long, how she sat up straighter and talked excitedly when he asked her questions and she got to explain, how she smiled and flushed and rolled her eyes when he complimented her. He’d learned about her family, about her love of architecture, about her summers at camp with Grover, about how she’d tried sushi when she was thirteen and gotten food poisoning and refused to ever eat it again, and about how she’d been correcting people’s grammar since she was about four. They’d both been grateful that not many people came to their little secluded corner of the library during that story; they’d laughed obnoxiously loudly. Percy could just picture her, tiny and chubby with perfect blonde ringlets, precociously announcing that, “Um, _actually,_ it would be ‘whom’, not ‘who’.”

He had also learned, in those weeks, that he was an absolute fucking coward who could not ask the most beautiful, funniest, smartest, most _perfect_ girl he’d ever met on a date.

And it wasn’t like he hadn’t tried. It had been a struggle to keep himself from kissing her at any given moment from that very first night they’d sat together, and his inner monologue was pretty much always just a stream of _please go out with me please go out with me wow your eyes are really pretty please go out with me I want to run my fingers through your hair how do you make different kinds of columns sound so fascinating what do I have to do to get you to kiss me please go out with me please please please—_

But every time he decided he’d finally ask, she’d get to a tricky spot in a reading, or want his advice on a part of her essay, or even just look at him in a way that made the words stick in his throat, so now it was October and he was pretty sure he was falling in love with her despite the fact that he couldn’t even get her on a date.

They fell into their usual routine, Annabeth finishing her reading—out loud, now that he was there to read to—and Percy watching her tug at the necklace that rested against her collarbone and trying not to imagine what noise she’d make if he kissed the skin there.

She finished the article and turned to make some notes, and Percy took a deep breath. Beckendorf had talked him into asking her today, no backing out, and he needed to know her answer one way or the other and it had to be now because waiting for another week sounded like torture.

“Hey, Annabeth,” he said slowly. She hummed, not looking up from her notes. He coughed a little, his throat suddenly very, very dry.

“What’s up, Perce?”

His heart caught in his throat at the nickname, and he could feel his cheeks warming. “Well, I was wondering—hoping, really, if you…um, I just…if—if maybe tomorrow night, I mean if you wanted, because I want to—um, do you—?”

“—Want to go to dinner?” she finished for him. He swallowed nervously and nodded. “I’d love to.” She smirked at him and all the air left his lungs. 

“Yeah?” he breathed.

“Yeah, Seaweed Brain, I’ve only been waiting over a month for you to ask,” she laughed. 

Percy didn’t stop smiling the whole rest of the night. But, he noticed, neither did Annabeth.

 

_February 16_

As Percy jogs to the mound at the top of the ninth, he’s aware of several things.

First, he’s aware that Chiron has been reluctant to let him pitch this late into the game, and he has to prove that he isn’t even a little tired. Pitchers don’t normally stay in this long, but Percy had insisted and Chiron has a soft spot for him, so he’s determined to finish this game.

Second, he’s aware that they are currently beating the Giants 7 to 4, so as long as Percy can keep them from scoring more than two runs, they won’t even have to bat the bottom of the inning. The game will be over. He doesn’t intend to let them score at all.

Third, he’s aware that along with thousands of fans and everyone watching it on television, his family, best friend, and girlfriend are all in the crowd, cheering him on. The thought should be nerve-wracking. Instead, it settles him. He can’t wait to give every single one of them a giant hug. (Annabeth will be getting more than a hug later, but he can’t let himself get distracted right now.)

Fourth, he’s aware that his stamina is at an end. He needs to make the next few pitches accurate and tricky, because he doesn’t want to have to pitch to more than three guys. 

He steps onto the mound and watches as the umpire examines a few baseballs before handing one to Jason. Jason, in turn, lowers his catcher’s mask and tosses it to Percy, who catches it easily and cradles it in his glove, feeling the weight of it. He transfers it to his other hand, and his fingers skim across its soft surface.

As he rubs the red stitches under his fingers, everything synthesizes into one thought: _make these next few pitches count._

He gets into position, spreading the soft dirt with his feet and tugging the brim of his cap down slightly. The ball twists in his hand, buried in his glove, as he watches the batter lift the bat above his shoulder.

And then he’s rearing back, his left leg lifted high across his body, and then he’s twisting and throwing and the ball his leaving his hand and his left cleat is digging into the mound and his body is rocking forward with the momentum and all he can see is Jason’s mitt, and then the ball is too far left, it’s outside of the strike zone and Percy is catching himself on his right foot, and then the ball is curving right and down and crossing home and the batter isn’t even swinging and Jason’s mitt is closing around it it’s a strike, and then the crowd is cheering and Percy can breathe again.

He repeats the process again, and again, varying the types of pitches he’s throwing to keep the batters on their toes and rarely missing the strike zone. He does it all unthinkingly, entirely on instinct, and before he knows it the third batter is slumping dejectedly and the noise is deafening around him.

It’s his first college baseball game and Percy just struck out the last batter.

Jason reaches him first, his mask discarded in the dirt near home, and pulls him into a bear hug.

It’s his first college baseball game and Percy pitched every inning.

The rest of the guys are surrounding him, Beckendorf is next to him, and Lee Fletcher, and Coach Hedge and Chiron are coming over too.

It’s his first college baseball game and Percy just won it.

Suddenly he turns, craning over the heads of his teammates to see—

His mom and step-dad, Paul, and his little sister are all in the center section of the stands behind the net. They’re cheering, Estelle bouncing gleefully, and Percy can see the pride and tears gleaming in his mom’s eyes even from here. She returns his wave and gestures towards the exits; he knows he’ll meet them outside in a while.

Then he turns to the student section, but he can’t find Grover and Annabeth. They weren’t where they had been sitting, and he frowns a little because surely they couldn’t have gotten out so quickly in this crowd, and they wouldn’t have left before the game was over, would they? 

But then he spots a head of blonde curls pushing forward, followed by Grover, the two of them fighting against the crowd.

Percy pushes through his teammates and takes off at a run.

For as quickly as the last inning passed, reaching the low wall separating the left outfield from the stands takes an inordinate amount of time, and Percy feels like he’s running in water or time has slowed down or something because he just wants to be there and to see her and it’s not fair that it’s taking so long. Finally, though, he’s reaching the wall and slowing down slightly, watching eagerly as Annabeth shoves through the last crowd of students and reaches the wall. He’s staring up at her, and her hair is wind-blown and tangled and her cheeks are rosy and her coat is askew and the setting sun on their right is casting a golden glow over her and Percy thinks she’s never looked more beautiful.

Her hands on the wall rest just below his chin, and she’s bending over it, her face hovering just over his own.

“You won,” she says simply. 

He pushes onto the balls of his feet, braces one hand against the wall for balance, and places the other on the back of her head. And then she’s leaning further and he’s pulling her in and they’re kissing, and they’ve kissed plenty of times before but something is different now. Kissing Annabeth, he realizes later, has the same effect as twisting a baseball in his hands; Percy’s entire world narrows to the most important thing. And right now, that’s the feeling of her lips moving against his, pressing hard and hot and passionately.

It’s the best kiss of his life, he thinks.

(But, of course, he thinks that just about every single time he kisses Annabeth Chase, and he’s pretty sure he’ll never stop thinking it.)

Suddenly he’s yanked backwards. His eyes fly open to see Annabeth, still hanging over the wall with a dazed smile on her face, and Grover laughing behind her, but he’s being dragged backwards and away from them. He’s dimly aware of Jason and Sherman Yang on either side of him, gripping his arms, while others—Beckendorf, he thinks, and maybe Lee Fletcher—laugh behind him, but he can still feel Annabeth’s lips on his and her silky hair under his fingers and she’s still hanging there, getting smaller and smaller as he’s pulled back to the team.

“Sorry to interrupt, Jackson,” Sherman laughed on his left, “looked like you were having a good time.”

“You don’t sound too sorry,” Percy shot back, getting his feet back under him and pulling away.

Jason wrapped his arm around Percy’s neck and turned him so they were walking back towards the dugout together. “We are. But only a little.”

“You’ve got to celebrate with your team!” Lee added. “It’s your first win, and we _loooooove_ you!”

Percy laughed as Lee batted his eyelashes, giving him a playful shove to the shoulder.

“Besides, you’ll have time to celebrate with Annabeth later,” Sherman said. “And celebrate, and celebrate…”

Lee laughed, “I’ll bet you’ll be _celebrating_ with her all night long!”

Percy blushed bright red. “Fuck off, Fletcher,” he snarked, but there was no real bite behind it. After all, if the way she’d kissed him back just now was any indication, he wasn't too far off.

As they jostle into the dugout with the rest of the team, Percy throws one last glance over his shoulder to the student section. Annabeth and Grover are nowhere to be seen, having disappeared into the crowd or already made it out of the stadium. He’ll see them, and his family, in a while.

He follows Beckendorf into the dugout and is greeted by a chaotic mixture of wolf whistles, congratulations, and roughhousing. 

It’s perfect.

 

_October 6_

Annabeth stopped outside her dorm building and turned to face him.

“This is me,” she said shyly.

They were still holding hands; she couldn’t remember when they’d started. She liked the way his hand felt in hers. It was larger and warmer and rougher than her own. It was perfect. She never wanted to stop holding his hand, and that was dangerous, that was how she’d gotten hurt with Luke, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go of Percy’s hand.

He stepped closer. “I, um…I had a really nice time,” he said, just as awkward and shy as she felt. It was a little bit of a relief. She smiled up at him.

“I did, too. I wouldn’t mind doing it again some time.” 

“Yeah?” he breathed, almost in disbelief. Just like he had the night before, she remembered with a chuckle.

“Yeah.” Their eyes were locked together, sea green on grey. “Or doing something else. Like a movie, or coffee, or a concert, or just hanging out. I like spending time with you, Percy.” 

She was determined to be honest with her feelings. She was determined to make this work.

“Me too,” he answered, then frowned. “I like spending time with you, I mean. Not with myself, obviously, but you probably got that so—”

Without really thinking about it, Annabeth found herself pushing up onto her toes and grasping his other hand in hers and pulling him forward and pressing her lips softly, ever so softly, to his. He was still for a moment, and she was about to pull away but then he was kissing her back and it was delicate and tender and perfect.

It was the best kiss of her life, she thought.

She lowered herself back down, pulling away slightly, but he bent to keep their foreheads pressed together. They breathed, unable to quite catch their breaths, and they stayed there—eyes closed, foreheads together, hands entwined—for the shortest eternity Annabeth had ever experienced.

When she finally opened her eyes, she found his already staring down at her. They were darker now, the mischievous glint she was used to replaced by something more serious. The fire behind them burned deep and hot and intense and it was burning up all the air in Annabeth’s lungs, and she couldn’t breathe. She was drowning on dry land.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice whispered to be careful, that she’d barely known him a month. That she was moving too fast. That this was only a first date. She shushed it. She’d known him her whole life. She’d known him a thousand lifetimes.

“Percy,” she whispered, letting her breath ghost against his lips, “kiss me again.” Her voice was hoarse, and her lips were dry, and his eyes tracked the movement of her tongue as she wetted them. “Please.”

And then his lips were on hers, harder and hotter, and his hands were sliding up her back to pull her flush against him and she was gasping and sliding one hand into his hair, the other thrown around his neck to press him harder against her mouth. His tongue teased the seam of her lips and she opened willingly under him, letting him take whatever he wanted, anything. Everything.

This, she thought, was the best kiss of her life.

By the time they slow and pull apart, another eternity has passed, and they are both panting, still pressed together.

“So,” he said finally, “how does pizza and a movie tomorrow sound?” His smile was hopeful and cheeky and positively infectious, and she returned it without hesitation.

“Sounds like a plan, Seaweed Brain.” 

They stared at each other a few moments longer, and she couldn’t look away from his eyes on hers.

“Goodnight, Percy,” she whispered finally, pulling out of his grasp.

“Night, Wise Girl.”

Annabeth headed inside, glancing over her shoulder as she entered the building to see Percy standing where she left him, watching with a dopey smile on his face. It matched hers. By the time she reached her room, her eyelids were already drooping, so she hurried through her nightly routine as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake her roommate, and fell into bed, tired and happy and already dreaming of sea green eyes and excited for tomorrow.

It was perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any thoughts, questions, or suggestions, drop a comment below or hit up my tumblr, millennial-medusa :)


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